Sometimes I Can’t See or Hear Planes: During Times of Struggle My Creativity Dies

It was a hot summer day.  The sky was clear blue.  All I could see was blue.  I saw a plane.  I, saw, a plane.  Oh wow!  I had stopped noticing them, and hearing them.  What happened?

I had been through a hard time for seven years.  My life was defined by my trial.  I could barely get out of bed most days, let alone look at the sky.  I was happy just to make it through a day or a week.  I had stopped enjoying the beauty of the sky, and had stopped seeing and hearing planes.

I have always been fascinated with airplanes.  They give me hope.  Someone in those planes is going somewhere.  They are accomplishing something.  When I hear a plane pass by I envision where it is going.  Are they headed to St. Louis?  Maybe Kansas City?  This one is high.  They might be headed toward Atlanta and then on to another country.

I know it sounds crazy, but to me there is something calming about watching a plane cross the sky on a clear day.  To hear it’s echo from my front room makes my heart soar.  I might not be where I want to be, but someone is going somewhere.  There is hope.

When I stop looking for planes, and stop hearing them, then I know something is wrong.  I am probably too focused on my problems, and myself.  When I can’t lift my head up high enough to see a plane than I am looking down at the wrong thing.  When I can’t hear the echo of a plane’s engine than I am listening to voices that lie and taunt me.

I haven’t been able to see or hear planes for a while.  I stopped writing, dreaming, and creating.  My ideas died with me.  Yet I have to move on.  I have to write.  I have to dream and I have to create.  I may not feel any passion for what I am doing, but the more I do it the more I am able to look up.  The more I can see and hear planes.

Marcy Pedersen

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